


The First Five Times

by anona



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 18:10:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anona/pseuds/anona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based off "The First Five Times" by Stars, so, the first five times Harry and Louis are- the first five times they are physical with each other, until they finally use their words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Five Times

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while fairly drunk, so I think the first two and the last two times are a little jumbled compared to the song, but the idea's all here. This probably isn't actually canon compliant because everything pre-June 2012 is just kind of jumbled in my brain, so please look beyond any inconsistencies <3
> 
> (you know what i am still drunk but i wanna post this before i lose my nerve, i am so sorry if this doesn't make any sense)

They throw a party at the bungalow.  They don’t- they won’t appreciate how small Great Britain is, that all their friends can just drive over within the day- they won’t have a proper grasp on that for awhile, so they still act like it’s a big deal that Niall’s mates made the trip and they greet Harry’s friends like they’ve made the same journey.

It was raining, obviously.  They’d all started groaning that they’d forgotten what the sun looked like, and Robin had set up a few tents because Robin was Good People.  Everyone mostly stayed inside anyway, with only a few people venturing out to the pool and coming in soon after because yeah, logic dictates the pool in the rain should be fine because you’re wet anyways, but everyone forgets how fucking cold it is, especially when they’re down to just their underwear.

It’s 8 and it’s still raining and everyone but Liam and maybe one of Zayn’s mates is pissed.   Harry has to squint to determine if it’s Niall’s mate Cian or if it’s Zayn’s Clara he’s currently debating Coke versus Pepsi with, and suddenly he has an armful of Louis, who is muttering about how tall Eleanor is, and how Harry better not get any taller, because _everything is perfect right now, Harold._

Harry doesn’t know that in three years he’ll be debating on the side of Pepsi for contract reason with Zayn’s friend- Teluluah, not Clara- but he does find himself, thirty minutes later, pressed against Louis under the plastic sheeting of one of Robin’s tents.  He’s kissing Louis feverishly and there is a very quiet voice rumbling under his brain reminding him of _band dynamics_ and _best mate_ and _this is just the alcohol talking_ because _oh god_ \- Louis is crowding him, and Louis is growling like he’s- like he’s a sabre tooth tiger, and Harry’s drunk and it feels so good and he’s hard, damn it, and Louis is wearing these awful baggy trousers that Harry can’t even hate properly yet because it’s not for a year they get Caroline who introduces them to skinny jeans, so Harry can only hope Louis is hard too.

Harry has brief memory of something about whiskey dick, but then Louis is writhing against him, and they’re getting off on each other’s thighs and Harry knows they should be talking about this but he’s so drunk he can’t feel his fucking face so he just gasps and  comes in his boxers, pinches Louis’s wrist when he can tell this boy- this boy he’s silently in love with, this boy he’d never tell because of _band dynamics_ and _best mates_ and _Hannah_ – does the same.

\--

It’s- It’s a Halloween party.  No, wait, it's not October, so. It’s just a costume party, and Louis is just- He’s really glad to be home, and he can’t recognize anyone but Harry because he’s had… he’s had a lot to drink and everyone is in costume except him and his bandmate- which still sounds ridiculous, he still has to remind himself every morning that The Rogue was nothing, that One Direction is his _thing_ now.

Louis knows if Harry has Smirnoff, he gets tired.  All of his old friends are talking to him though and he doesn’t have time to remind Harry, and he knows Harry will be really uncomfortable and will seek solace in any alcohol he finds, and the only alcohol anyone is willing to ever share is Smirnoff.  It’s eleven thirty before everyone has finally had their proper chat with Louis and he decides he should probably find Harry.

He’s getting frantic until he remembers, again, that Harry gets sleepy, so he checks all the bedrooms, all the couches, and he’s even more frantic until he checks under the stairs.   He laughs when he finds Harry- Harry, in the cupboard under the stairs.   He resists the urge to shout _THERE_ _’_ _S NO SUCH THING AS MAGIC_ a la Uncle Vernon because Louis knows there is such thing as magic, and it’s what’s happening in his heart when he looks down at Harry who is half-asleep, huffing out heavy breaths because he is also very drunk.

Louis shuts the door behind him and it’s suddenly pitch black, because- whoever's house this is, he's a bit fuzee righ now- hadn’t any reason to install a slot or two in the door like the Dursleys had.  He falls onto the mattress beside Harry, but it’s only a single so “beside” means “half-on-top-of,” and Harry jolts awake.

“Louis,” he sighs, and Louis takes a moment to wonder how he knows. “You smell good,” Harry mutters, and oh, that’s how.

“Hazza,” Louis says, but he draws the first ‘a’ out, because- shit, he is drunk. He suddenly has fleeting memories of a time he was previously this drunk, and of Harry pressed up against a flimsy pole, gasping.  He blinks and wishes he had started drinking water a bit earlier.

“Lou,” Harry sighs, his eyes slipping shut again.  “Whiskey dick,” he mutters, and no, Louis does not have Whiskey Dick, and neither- neither does Harry.

Louis...he doesn’t ever, ever talk about it. But he...when he’s alone and he’s getting himself off with just his hand, he- he often wishes he had something…something thick in his mouth. He is drunk enough, right this second, to admit he really wants to suck cock, and if there was anyone in the world whose cock he would want to suck, it would be Harry's. He clumsily folds himself so he’s mouth-to-cock level with Harry’s tented trousers, and his mouth waters.

“Nope,” he says, referring to Harry’s earlier whiskey dick comment. He has to actually stick his tongue out in concentration to unbutton Harry’s trousers, but he almost blacks out when he reveals Harry’s boxers, Jack Wills running along the waistline. Louis takes a minute to process the scent that hits his nostrils- _boy_ is a sharp contrast to the _girl_ Louis is used to, and Louis finds his mouth absolutely watering.  He considers peeling Harry’s boxers down with his trousers but there’s a brief moment of panic, a steady repetition of _no no no_ when he realizes he is about to see another boy’s dick so he opts for working Harry’s cock out between the slit in his boxers.  Louis understands this isn’t the full experience and that Harry deserves so much better, but if Harry’s choked sounds are any indication, he's sure Harry understands.

The three types of alcohol in his system make it difficult to take Harry down much further than just past his teeth, but Louis tries to make up for it with his hand and it apparently works because Harry is warning Louis and Louis pulls off and watches in fascination as Harry scrambles to pull up his t-shirt in time for his come to spill over his chest. 

Harry then reaches blindly for Louis who pushes easily into his best mate’s arms and Harry immediately opens Louis’s fly and slips past his boxer’s elastic and grips a brave hand around Louis’s balls before working at his dick, and Louis takes- it’s longer than he should have taken, but he still comes with a moan and Harry barely pulls his hand back to his body before they’re both asleep.

\--

Harry had been making them breakfast. Louis had woken up first and thrown himself dramatically onto Harry’s bed and whined about eggs on toast, so now Harry was in the kitchen, naked while Louis had only stumbled into some trousers before his stomach growled.

They chatted and ate and laughed and Louis had just- he was still wearing these fucking baggy trousers and he couldn’t wait until these things fell out of style because he was sick of tripping on them and Harry was so close behind him that they both fumbled, and Louis was gripping the doorway for balance and Harry’s hand was around Louis's hip.

Louis was acutely aware of the fact every light in the house was currently on. Harry- who hasn’t even have the same experience with it that Louis does- he's always concerned about bills, but Harry is more concerned with the bloke sitting in the tree outside he'd noticed while he poured Louis some more orange juice.

He can’t stop to wonder if the guy is a pap, because Louis smells intoxicating and even if Louis didn’t remember the last few times, Harry does, and he’s kissing Louis against the doorframe with urgency. It’s the first time- out of three, holy shit- that they’re sober, and Harry waits for his _best mate_ to push him away but he doesn’t.

They get their hands down each other’s pants at the same time, and they- they come at the same time and Harry blinks back tears, because that- that means something, doesn’t it?  That- that’s romantic, that’s soulmate material, but as soon as Louis- beautiful, sharp, incredible Louis- catches his breath, he tears out from under Harry and slips into the bathroom.  The water starts running immediately. Harry’s chest is still heaving and he glances outside- the guy is still there, but there’s no camera on him.   The guy just- he pulls at the invisible brim of an invisible hat in a gesture that reads _thanks_ and _good luck_ all at once, and Harry doesn’t catch his breath for a fucking week.

-

They’ve just announced their first tour non-X-Factor. Harry is dizzy, Louis is nauseous. They stumble back to their flat in a daze, and Harry is in Louis’s bed and Louis has fingers up Harry’s arse, slicked with lube Harry’s mind is desperate to know why he owns, but Louis’s third finger is up to the knuckle and he’s grazed a spot in Harry that makes Harry see stars.

Louis slides into him without a condom and Harry… Harry’s not an idiot, Harry knows and Nick reminds him all the fucking time that this dangerous, he needs to be safe, but Harry- Harry is willing to have anything Louis has, if it means Louis forever.  He’s done it with Nick- once, just- just to be with someone he trusts- and he’s done it with a guy he met at a club, stupidly, and neither time has felt as _good_ as it does with Louis.   As right.   He’s never felt as _full_.

Louis growls. He doesn’t mean to, he doesn’t think about it, but he growls _mine_ , and Harry immediately comes undone beneath him, and he clenches around Louis and Louis takes the opportunity to grab Harry’s wrists and pin them down, push into him further and he can only assume the overstimulation is a good thing for Harry because Harry is still gasping in a good way and Louis growls _mine_ again and comes inside his _best mate_ , who folds his wrists over to grab Louis’s hands and gasps “keep doing that forever.”

-

It’s over lunch that Harry says, calmly, “You’ve agreed to give me everything,” and it’s a statement that Louis- Louis should refute, should fight, Harry is his _bandmate_ , _his best mate_ — but Hannah’s gone, so-

There’s really nothing Louis can do except push Harry into his bedroom this time and fuck him again, growl _mine_ , and Harry whimpers _yours_ , and there’s still no condom and they come at the same time, and they finally- for the first time out of five, take the time to breathe _together_.

Harry catches his first, and leans upon his elbow to look down at Louis and he’s putting words together that don’t make sense in Louis’s brain, about the band and love and soulmates and fear and then love again, and Louis stops him with a kiss, takes Harry’s wrists again- gently this time, tenderly unlike earlier when he’d accidentally left bruises- and Louis says “I know, I know, I know, I feel the same as you.”

-

And everyday it’s changed since then. In every way, it’s changed since then. There’s- They’re not just third-place X-Factor kids anymore, they’re- they’re trying to break America, and- and Eleanor is a goddess and agreed to get- she’s involved, and she and Louis pretend to love each other and everyone knows they’re doing a shit job but they have to keep doing it, because America and fame and money and-

And the sounds that escape Harry, _uh hu, uh huh, uh huh_ , when Louis hasn’t had time to work his fingers inside his arse in weeks, the _uhh, uhh_ that escapes Louis when he catches sight of the marks he left on Harry’s skin the night before, and Louis is sad that he can only _really_ remember the first three times, but Harry.   Harry remembers the first five times, and he marks an ‘x’ on the calendar on the day he loses track.


End file.
